Your House
by BethNee
Summary: Draco travelled back to a house that holds a lot of memories... Harry's house. Implied HarryDraco slash, nothing big


_Warnings: Harry/Draco slash. Also, a songfic... though I don't really think I need to warn you about that.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the song ''Your House' by Alanis Morissette._

_Here ya go... sad little songfic to take us into the New Year._

HDHDHDHDHD

Your House

_I went to your house,  
Walked up the stairs,_

Draco trudged miserably back from work. Of course, he could've easily Apparated, but he figured he was more likely to splinch now that he was spiraling into deep depression. He wandered down road after road, a light drizzle of rain slightly blurring his vision. Suddenly, Draco found himself down an uncomfotably familiar road, standing in front of an uncomfortably familiar house. Time seemed to stop, and the pale wizard walked down the garden path and up the steps. His hand reached out and touched the red painted door.

_Opened the door without ringing the bell,  
Walked down the hall,  
Into your room where I could smell you,_

Draco remembered Harry Potter never locked the front door. Such a kind, gentle man... he had always believed people should come and go as they please. Draco had never agreed, but now he was glad for his ex's attitude towards leaving the house unlocked. He twisted the knob and pushed open the light oak door, stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him. He found himself absentminedly heading to Harry's bedroom, and the scent of freshly cut grass, honey and citrus met his nostrils- the scent of Harry.

_And I shouldn't be here,  
Without permission,  
Shouldn't be here..._

Harry had told him never to return. To never dare show his face again, and Draco had obliged. He loved him after all, and though leaving was hard, hurting him was harder. Tears formed in steel grey eyes and rolled down pale cheeks, remembering things that had long been buried.

_Would you forgive me love, if I danced in your shower?  
Would you forgive me love, if I laid in your bed?  
Would you forgive me love, if I stayed all afternoon?_

The house was decorated the same way as Draco remembered... the shower head still didn't work properly and hung loosely from a silver hook on slightly faded blue tiles. The bed had the same red silk sheets, where many a passionate night had taken place, and Draco longed to stay forever in this little haven.

_I took off my clothes,  
Put on your robe,_

Draco spotted the emerald-eyed man's brown robe hanging off the back of one of his favourite chairs. Nervously, he caressed the fabric in stiff fingers, and found himself tearing off his clothes, and putting on the robe. For one moment, it seemed as though Harry was wrapping his arms around Draco once more.

_Went through your drawers,  
And I found your cologne,_

Still wearing Harry's robe, Draco opened some of the drawers in the bedroom. He found a dusty, dog-eared book on Quidditch, a pair of threadbare socks, and a bottle of half-used cologne. Draco sprayed some onto his wrist and brought it close to his nose. With one sniff, he was enveloped in emotion.

_Went down to the den,  
Found your CDs,  
And I played your Joni,_

More tears came, and Draco cursed himself for crying. He wandered down to Harry's den, his getaway from the hustle and bustle of life, where the two of them had spent many a blissful evening. Locating some of Harry's most recently played CDs, and shoving a Joni Mitchell classic into the stereo, Draco felt a sense of belonging. Of course, he could never belong in this house again.

_You might be home soon,  
Shouldn't stay long...  
Would you forgive me love, if I danced in your shower?  
Would you forgive me love, if I laid in your bed?  
Would you forgive me love, if I stayed all afternoon?_

Unaware that he was losing track of time, Draco made a few more laps of the house. He spotted a few things he and Harry had bought together, but no gifts he had treated Harry to. He suspected they had been burned, along with Draco's favourite sweater, in some sort of ceremony he'd been informed of. Probably another one of Luna Lovegood's batty ideas. But he tried not to dwell on Luna, not here, not now...

_I burned your incense,  
I ran a bath,_

Walking into the bathroom again, Draco lit some of Harry's incense, which he never dared have in his own dingy flat. He also ran himself a warm bath, only to drain it again moments later. He left the bathroom and travelled for one last time to Harry's bedroom.

_I noticed a letter that sat on your desk,  
It said: "Hello, love,  
I love you so, love,  
Meet me at midnight."  
And no, it wasn't my writing,  
I'd better go soon,  
It wasn't my writing,_

Noticing a piece of paper perched next to Harry's lamp, Draco picked it up and read it. In elegant, curled wiriting it said: 'Hello, love. I love you so, love. Meet me at midnight.' Glancing at the handwriting, Draco's heart shattered- it wasn't his. Probably Lovegood's, or the Weasley girl's, but most definately not his. So Draco threw his clothes back on and dropped the robe back on the chair. He ran down the hall to the front door and opened it.

_So forgive me love, if I cry in your shower,  
So forgive me love, for the salt in your bed,  
So forgive me love, if I cry all afternoon..._

Draco Malfoy left the home of Harry Potter for one last time, not even looking back at the quaint little house. The rain had stopped, and there was glorious moonlight, but there was no light in Draco's heart. And if you had seen Draco that night, sobbing his heart out as he sprinted home, you would've found it hard to believe it was him. The pale wizard didn't just cry all of that night... but every night, as his heart broke just a little bit more.

HDHDHDHDHD

_Well, that was that. If you liked, review. If you didn't... well, review and tell me how rubbish it was. If you were indifferent, then I failed to make some impact on you, and my life is ruined. Besides, I MIGHT do a sequal..._

_Betnii. xxx_


End file.
